When Dad Was Sick – Part 13

Mom insisted on trying to get him to eat something off a plate in the bedroom. Chicken breast in cream of mushroom soup gravy, stuffing and GREEN BEANS. WHY does she try to get him to eat green beans? He doesn’t like green beans even on his best day. If you’re trying to get somebody as sick as he is to eat, wouldn’t you offer them something they like instead of a food they absolutely despise? What is the thinking here? Is it just more of her craziness? Doing things “her” way? Imposing her will on someone who’s too weak to fight it now, and who wouldn’t fight even when he was able? For that matter, chicken is hardly one of Dad’s favorites, either unless it’s “Crispy Baked Chicken” from Marla’s. It’s this kind of behavior that just makes me crazy to sit by and watch. Even after Dad said, “No more bites,” (after he’d taken like two) she insisted he try to eat more before he gave up. She wasn’t very successful.

She hardly ate any more than he did, so she’s got no room to talk or to be trying to force people who don’t want to eat to eat. She sat there and sort of sniffled. (I ate—no problem—now that it’s a fait accompli, my appetite is fine.)

I can hear him in there coughing and breathing hard sometimes and I think he’s awake, but he isn’t. I still have to get up and check each time though in case he is awake and needs pain med.

So I was thinking while I was shoveling food in my face (because we barely spoke during lunch; for my part I have nothing to say to her; I assume she’s got nothing to say to me, either) how much she and Kevin are alike. I thought back to the way Kevin behaved when Irv was sick and then after he died how he “grieved.” I still maintain their grief is a self-centered grief. It’s a “who will take care of ME now” kind of grief. Dad always took care of Mom and now he can’t and he won’t. And I’m sure she’s wondering who will. Who can she get to do her bidding the way Dad did? Kevin to a certain extent, but I don’t expect that to last forever. She may find herself in assisted living. Alone. Because “I don’t want to move to Florida. I hate the hot weather there. I hated it when I lived there all those years.” Gee, Mom, why’s that? Because you wouldn’t use the air conditioning during the summer?”

I talked to Chris last night and told him how my eyes have been opened and I now understand her so much better. I am done with her. I don’t like her. I don’t respect her. I don’t want to be around her. And when the time comes, I won’t be running to her aid. I am done with her. In my opinion, she’s getting exactly what she deserves.

I’m reading Wayne Dyer’s book INSPIRATION and I opened it this morning to this: “Use your own inner hunches to determine if you’re in the right places with the right people. If you feel good in their presence, meaning that you feel inspired to be a better and more joyful person, then these are right for you. If, on the other hand, you feel more anxious, depressed, and uninspired, and you can’t wait to get away because of conflict, then these are not going to be sources of inspiration for you.”

Well, at least not the kind of inspiration he’s talking about. All my mother has inspired me to do is to be as much not like her as I possibly can. So maybe she has inspired me and I’m thankful for that. I knew I didn’t want to follow her example. I didn’t want to try to make everyone conform to MY ideal, but rather, I try to let people, including my children, be and become who they are. Accept that they’re different from me, not good or bad, but just different and I don’t have to agree with them or like their behavior and I can choose who I spend time with. Indeed, I can’t wait to get away from her. In a way, I think she slowly suffocates the people who are around her for too long. It figures, that my dad’s having trouble breathing. Ooh, that’s harsh. I know all those years working in sulfuric acid plants did a number on his lungs.